


Nightmares

by pok3d3x



Series: Fireside Chats [4]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Recovery, Talking, no editing we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 08:42:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15069440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pok3d3x/pseuds/pok3d3x
Summary: Two individuals who often share sleeping quarters or space have very different methods of coping with nightmares. This is a fic of exploring how they learn to be what the other needs.





	Nightmares

Molly came to with a start, the world around him strangely vibrant despite the dull colors of a cloudy night. If his brain would stop spinning for just a minute, maybe he'd realize it seemed overly vibrant in only that it was being contrasted to his dream—nightmare— _memory?_ —in which there was no color and his eyes were full of dirt.

He was shaking he realized, only because a still hand rested over his forearm as if to steady him. It was roughed, green, the familiar hand of a man he knew had spent more years on the sea than he remembered being alive. The hand squeezed gently then let go and withdrew uncertainly.

"Sorry, shoulda' probably asked," Fjord apologized sheepishly.

Molly missed the contact almost immediately, but he couldn't find the words to express it, and he curled up tighter, his arms wrapping around his legs as his forehead rested against his knees. Wracking breaths plagued him, but he couldn't get his breathing to even. He wished sorely that Yasha were here, because she would have seen the signs and woken him before he got to _that_ part of the dream and guided his breathing until he didn't feel lightheaded from a lack of oxygen anymore.

"H-how should I help?" Fjord sounded so uncertain and sat awkwardly on the edge of Molly's bed, more than an arm's reach away.

Molly tensed, a wave of frustration with himself shivering through him. He was pretty sure Fjord couldn't, but he couldn't get anything out, be it a sarcastic dismissal or a warm reassurance everything was alright. Not that anything was alright, but Molly felt he should be able to convince another it was.

A gasp of air was all that left Molly as he tried to speak. It tasted of dirt, sweet rotten refuse of the natural world crumbling all around him and into his mouth. He bit his lip and curled the sharp points of his nails into his arms to keep from crying.

"Molly," Fjord said earnestly, not bothering to hide his concern. 

The same, green hand was reached out towards him, afraid to close the distance, Molly saw as he blearily raised his head enough to look over his knees. Molly nodded hesitantly with a distant look in his eyes. He was relieved as it was understood, Fjord's hand resting gently on his elbow. 

His breathing was still faint, but he took solace in the contact, the proof he was tethered in the world around him. The world that consisted of more than his own shallow grave and empty thoughts. He was more. He had experiences, memories, friends. He had these things, and he had won them himself. 

Molly shivered violently, and Fjord scooted even closer so he could pull him into his arms. One of Molly's horns got him in the cheek—already sore as it was accommodating his growing tusks that it hadn't for well over half his life—but Fjord paid the bump no mind. He cradled Molly close, some relief coming with a grateful sigh as Molly finally breathed in deeply.

"It's alright, Molly," he said, his deep, rich voice giving life to that name.

"Molly," the tiefling echoed his own name.

"That's right. Mollymauk Tealeaf," Fjord encouraged, thankful to hear Molly say anything at all. "Mollymauk Tealeaf, my friend."

Molly forced a few slower, deeper breaths. As his mind came reeling back to the present, he realized the absurdity of his position right now. He may be a very tactile person, but Fjord didn't strike him as the type to cradle his friends if they weren't on death's door. He forced a familiar routine, an amicable smile teaching his face as a gentle chuckle left him. 

"My, my, looks like we've found ourselves in a _comfortable_ position," Molly joked. His voice lacked the jovial tune it usually held though, his words forced and airy. 

It made Fjord instantly tense, and he loosened his embrace uncomfortably. Molly would typically enjoy how easily he could fluster someone, but it felt like his soul being peeled away as Fjord let go. Why did his default response have to be a flair for the dramatic and uncomfortably showy? He didn't want to scare off his only support. 

Fjord must have felt how Molly began to slump as he shut down at the fear he would be alone, because he stopped pulling away. "Molly," he said to bring the other's attention to his voice. Once he was sure the other was listening, he gently asked," What do you need?"

"What?"

The question wasn't new, he supposed, but he hasn't heard it spoken aloud before. Yasha and the rest of the circus folk that had taken him in had asked him that frequently, but never with words. It had been in the way they held out a blanket to see if he would grab it on a cold night, each ordered a different meal at a tavern before he was speaking and see which person he would look at silently with a request to share, how Yasha looked into his eyes on dark nights like these with their foreheads pressed together until he asked for her to brush through his hair or just hold him tight.

"I'm no stranger to… difficult dreams," Fjord said, having to chew through those last two words. He didn't like talking about his dreams, not even mentioning dreams, because it inevitably ended with the others asking about his. "They can leave you rattled. Leave you… well, sometimes you need to recover somehow."

"Yeah, I guess I follow," Molly whispered, but just as he wasn't used to hearing the question, he wasn't used to answering it aloud with anyone but Yasha. "I, uh, holding me was nice," Molly answered since they were somewhere between disentangled and embracing from how Fjord had aborted his retreat. "If it doesn't bother you."

Molly hadn't realized he was holding his breath until Fjord pulled him closer once more. "Doesn't bother me none," Fjord dismissed. 

Molly tried to get his brain you start working, tried to get it to turn through the sluggish turmoil and focused on something else. "Ah, how about you? When you wake up from a dream that was difficult? What do you need?"

Silence built until Molly worried he asked the wrong question, had tread where he didn't belong. As he was about to withdraw his question and apologize, he paused as he heard Fjord breathe in to say something. 

"I… I need space," he finally answered. "Need time to sort out my thoughts and whatnot."

Molly nodded to himself, making note.

"I need—I can't deal with," Molly fumbled over his words, and grimaced at the unusual feeling of being at a loss for words. He let his faltering words die as Fjord's hand squeezed his shoulder encouragingly.

"It's okay, Molly," Fjord whispered soothingly, so close to the ear hidden by tousled, lavender hair he barely had to put breath behind his words, the rumble of his throat near enough to be heard. "You don't gotta explain unless you wan' to."

"But…" Molly couldn't come up with the words to say despite his protestation. 

Fjord decided to lead the conversation away from what Molly needed, thinking he just about figured out exactly what the needed thing was anyways. "Tell me about your circus days."

Molly have a weak laugh. "Tell you about my whole life? I'd say that's a tall order if weren't such a short one."

"Eh, two years isn't that short. I bet a good story or two, and we'll barely have scratched the surface," Fjord said. "You've got to have plenty of stories. More than just one night's telling."

This drew pause as Molly picked up the implication. Should another night like this come, Fjord would certainly oblige a story. Molly had to wonder if it was his strange magic that let him know so perfectly that what Molly needed more than anything else was to go over things that reminded him he was himself.

"So," he began dramatically, feeling better as he forced the showy air as well as he could from being held as he was. "There was one night, maybe a week or so after Yasha joined…"

The story came easily; Molly was talented at stories and speaking on the fly. It didn't hurt that he was held captive by a very captive audience. It was a story he'd never told before, since all the people he'd ever known and cared about up until a month ago had been present, and one had to know Yasha to find the humor in the situation, so it couldn't transfer to a story for the bars they'd travel from city to city to drum up anticipation for the circus.

"She saved your ass," Fjord laughed lightly as Molly finished his tale.

"Yasha always does. She's been… I may jokingly call her the charm of the circus, but she charmed me the first day we met. With her passion, devotion… strength of body and character," Molly said, perhaps a little more bluntly than he normally would from how sheer exhausted he was from waking up from the terrifying dream he had.

Molly fell silent, and Fjord didn't push it. This silence wasn't tense, just contemplative. The storm had passed, and just like on the sea, the morning after was calm. Fjord saw the beginning of dawn creeping in through their window.

"Best get a little more sleep in ya' before our heading out," Fjord said softly.

"Would you—" Molly scoffed at himself and muttered," Nevermind. Thank you for tonight—er last night would be more accurate, I suppose."

"You can thank me when it's morning proper," Fjord responded, scooting onto the bed more than just being over the edge and pulling Molly down beside him. "No more bad dreams until at least half past eight," he mumbled, playing it smooth as he helped guide Molly's head so he could rest his cheek on Fjord's shoulder without stabbing him with a horn.

Molly had thought he'd been speechless before, but now he laid there in complete shock… until the slowing rhythm of Fjord's breathing called a lulling sense of comfort to envelope him. The Mighty Nein was his new family, he thought warmly as he let his eyes close and fell into peaceful sleep.

~~  
~~

It was almost a week later, the Nein already back on the road, when Molly woke to Fjord's dreaming. It was a tight cavern, and only Yasha dared sleep outside when the clouds threatened such a storm on its way.

Molly was sandwiched between Fjord and Beau, and a sharp knee hit him dead middle of the thigh. He woke up with a start, expecting to chew Beau out for landing a completely uncalled for strike. It was Fjord thrashing lightly in his sleep though, Molly realized, and it was from a… difficult dream, if he knew anything at all.

He would say he was good at two things: telling a good story, and getting himself into trouble that was makings for a good one. Molly certainly wouldn't say he was good at handling nightmares, despite his fair bit of practice with them. He would grade himself perfectly average, if anything, but that would have to be enough.

He tried to wake Fjord with gentle taps on his shoulder, leary to try any action stronger than that for fear of waking the others. Fjord had explicitly said what he needed most was space. Finding he couldn't wake the man with gentle nudges and whispered words, Molly settled back beside him and watched with a sort of frustration. He wasn't able to help, which was biting at him. 

" _Fjord_ ," he said louder than intended, finally breaking down and speaking louder than intended. Of course Beau woke up, but his green friend remained sleeping. 

"Oh, shit," Beau said with a startled inhale as she backed away. "Is that fucking sea water?"

Her voice was so loud, she was going to wake everyone. With a finger to his lips, Molly quickly hissed," Help me wake him up and keep your voice down."

She mutely nodded and jumped into action following his instruction, and he thanked his lucky stars. Together they got Fjord to open his eyes.

"Wha—? You guys… What…?" He was disoriented, and looking between them like they might possibly hold answers for what he himself hadn't understood from his dream.

"Everyone else is asleep—Beau, I was meaning to ask you to look at this…" He tugged on her arm lightly.

"Now, Molly? The fuck are you—"

" _Beau_ ," Molly said with an edge to his voice.

"I just mean—" Beau guestered vaguely to Fjord, then to her pants that were soaked in sea water.

"Then let's get you into something dry," Molly suggested pulling on her arm with more force.

She finally went along with him, if only so he'd stop yanking on her arm, and Fjord let out a sigh of relief.

It was later, when Fjord had been laying back down as if asleep, and Molly laid back down where he'd been sleeping before, that Fjord turned to look at him and whispered," Thank you."

"Of course," Molly sleepily replied, having talked Beau's ear off until she dozed off over by Jester.

"Really, Molly, I mean it. Thank you."

Molly opened his red eyes to very serious slits. "You would do the same for me," he said simply.

Fjord accepted this reply and nodded with a soft smile on his lips.

"Tusks coming in nicely," Molly said, his voice falling back to a dreamy consistency. "I like how they accentuate your smile."

Fjord blushed at the compliment.

"The blush is nice too."

Fjord pointedly rolled over so his back was to Molly.

"I'll spin yarn as long as I have to get Beau back to sleep. You let me know if you ever need anything else."

Fjord felt choked up, but he forced out a small "I will."

"Mm, good. Sweet dreams this time, yeah? No waking me until at least sunbreak."

Stifling a chuckle, Fjord nodded to himself and vocalized a soft agreement. "Sleep well, Molly."


End file.
